


Desire

by kallistob



Series: Desire [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Biting, Choking, Crack, Dubious Consent, Everyone is naked, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Loneliness, M/M, Magical prank, Masturbation, Multi, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Touch-Starved, Trophy!Graves, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vibrating Toys, Virgin Tina, Voyeurism, biting kink, dub con, graves is not amused, hung!graves, inappropriate work behavior, locked together in a crate trope, peeping tom Graves, sex pollen trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-05 09:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/pseuds/kallistob
Summary: A collection of short, unrelated NSFW prompts I filled on Tumblr. The tags are updated with each new chapter.The first three go like this :1) Percival receives a present. It has unexpected effects.2) Percival discovers he has a choking kink, much to Newt's delight.3) Director Graves is the only one who can give Tina an internship at MACUSA despite her young age.





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Dubious consent warning for this one. Enjoy :)

There was a bottle of perfume on his desk.

Graves froze in the doorway, ignoring Newt behind him. The young man crashed into his back and hastily retreated, glasses askew on his face and file folders hanging precariously on the edge of his arm. “Mr. Graves? What’s wrong?”

“Tell me, Mr. Scamander,” Graves said slowly. “What month is it?”

“Uh - December, sir.”

“When is my birthday?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“In April. Remember it.” Graves nodded. “Now, what do you see on my desk?”

Newt looked above Graves’ shoulder, immediately spotting the perfume bottle sitting there innocently, which hadn’t been present when they left the office a couple of hours ago. “Perfume.”

“Perfume,” Graves echoed. “Do you think this could be an early Christmas present, Newt? Whoever sent it has taste, I’ll give it to them. This is the latest trend in men’s wizarding fashion.”

“Perhaps,” Newt said hesitantly. “But given your position as Director of Magical Security, I think it wise to check this  _present_ for spells and curses first.”

Percival nodded, stepping aside to let Newt in. “My thoughts exactly. By all means, Mr. Scamander. Work your magic.”

Newt bit his lips, carefully depositing the case files on the floor.

He took his wand from his shoulder holster and carefully approached the desk, muttering counter spells under his breath all the while as Graves watched. Should the bottle explode, or something worse, Newt would take the brunt of it, but he counted on Percival to soften the blow. He was a good boss and a good man, despite what he liked to make people think.

When nothing happened, Newt tried more complex spells, destined to detect even the slightest hint of dark magic hidden in the so-called present. Once again, nothing happened - and Newt finally saw up the little card right underneath the bottle. To Graves’ surprise he broke into a wide grin as he read it, and he immediately stepped up to Newt, deeming it safe for the moment. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief as he snatched the card from Newt's hands and read it himself. “From Theseus? Really?”

“He did say he would be really busy at Christmas,” Newt said softly. “I must have a present waiting for me in my flat, too.”

Percival nodded, still disbelieving. He cast a few charms of his own and, when he found nothing, he finally picked the perfume bottle up to inspect it. It was made of glass, and the cap was in the shape of a Wampus. Percival opened it, intending to smell its contents - but a thin, pink smoke rose up from the bottle, swirling, wrapping itself around both Newt and Graves as the Director swore to Merlin that they should have been more careful.

Of course it wasn’t a present from Theseus. The man only ever sent him  _books_ or _scarves_.

-

When Graves next woke up he was lying on the floor of his office. He blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of where he was. The air felt thick, cloying. He turned his head and saw Newt sitting in one corner of the room, shivering, flushed as if he had a fever.

Percival sat up slowly, his head spinning. The smoke had dissipated from his office, and an empty perfume bottle lay on the floor. Neither he or Newt were visibly injured. His head just swam, his throat was parched, and there was that _smell_.

God, that smell. Sweet and honeyed, attracting him like a siren’s call. It came from Newt, he realised, and with it came a second realisation.

He  _wanted_ Newt.

God help him, he’d never felt attracted to the awkward magizoologist before, but right now he felt like he would die if he didn't have Newt bouncing on his cock in the next five minutes.

He approached Newt on all fours, his hips swaying, his gaze predatory. Newt whimpered when Percival lay his hands on either of his knees and  _pushed_ , spreading Newt open for him. The scent was stronger there, right in the space between Newt’s legs, and it made Percival growl.

“I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t fuckin’ walk,” he slurred, his thick Irish accent permeating each word. “Gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard.”

Newt whined again, the sound going straight to Graves’ cock. He manhandled Newt, until the young man was on his hands and knees, tears streaming down his face and ass raised up in the air. Graves touched it, knead it, appreciating the firmness of it. How had he never noticed it before?

“Mr. - Mr. G - Graves --”

He vanished Newt’s pants and underwear, nearly whimpering himself at the sight of so much pale flesh just begging to be marked. But that would be for another time - right now he wanted too much. His cock was hot, solid, agony beneath his trousers. He placed his hands on Newt’s ass, spreading him open, and dove right for that pink hole without thinking. Newt  _howled_ , sobbed, as Graves opened him with his tongue, coating his rim in saliva before pulling back. He waved his hand, and something cool and slick gushed from Newt’s hole as Graves freed his cock from his trousers. He pressed against that tight, wet heat, entering Newt each by inch, until he was as deep as he could go, until Newt could feel him in his throat.

He pulled back and thrust back in, closing his eyes and losing himself in the pleasure. Newt cried out with each roll of his hips and he went faster, mean and bruising and punishing without realizing it. Newt screamed and clenched around him, and it was enough to make Graves come undone.

He collapsed on the young man, his softening cock still inside him. Newt was whimpering softly, and as pleasure gave way to tiredness the haze in Graves’ mind receded. He kissed Newt’s neck, breathing him in. Newt smelt like sweat and sex and the cheap, lingering cologne he no doubt applied every morning.

He smelt normal.

He smelt normal, and Graves had just fucked him like an animal in heat on the floor of his own office.


	2. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves is the biggest sub, fight me on this.

Percival had started it.

As soon as the door was closed he’d grabbed Newt by the shoulders, standing on his tip-toes to kiss his gangly lover. Newt had chuckled, wrapping his arms around Percival’s back and returning the kiss, but it wasn't enough.

He took a step forward, pushing Newt back until the young man was caged between Percival and the wall behind him. It allowed Percival to press himself up against Newt without fear of stumbling or swaying, and he took advantage of it, kissing and kissing and kissing Newt again, feeling that familiar heat pool low in his belly. Newt responded just as eagerly, tangling his fingers in Graves’ hair and disheveling it as he liked to do.

Then Newt spun them around - slamming Percival against the wall of his office, leaving him breathless and _oh,_ god - more than a little aroused. Being trapped like this, with Newt looming over him --

“Fuck,” Percival said between two kisses, his head nearly spinning. Newt was cupping him through his trousers, teasing, and he made a low appreciative noise, trying to remember what to do with his own hands. It made Newt chuckle, to see Percival so clearly affected by their little impromptu makeout session, made him giddy with excitement. He cupped the side of Percival’s face as he licked into his open mouth, slow and languid, swallowing Percival’s answering moan with more kisses. His thumb brushed against Percival’s Adam’s Apple and the latter made a choked noise, grabbing Newt’s hand to keep it where it was.

Curled around Percival’s neck, pressing against his throat. Not threatening, but there all the same - possessive and controlling. Newt pulled back to look at Percival’s face, keeping his hand in place. The Director was breathing raggedly, cheeks flushed and eyes closed, looking overwhelmed. Experimentally, Newt squeezed a little, and Percival’s eyes flew open, blown wide and helpless.

“You like my hand there?” Newt murmured, stepping closer again. Percival nodded, seemingly unable to talk. “You like it when I choke you, darling ?”

“ _Newt,_ ” Percival gasped.

“How do you feel ?” Newt placed a soft, butterfly kiss on Graves’ cheek, and another on his nose. Offering comfort in the face of this new discovery.

“I feel…” Graves swallowed, tried again. His voice was rough yet small, aroused yet insecure. “I - I feel like I would do anything you ask of me right now.”

“Is that right?” Newt said, voice low. He kissed Percival’s neck, drawing another helpless noise from the man’s throat. “Uh. Looks like we’re going to have to experiment with that.”

“Newt, _please_ \--”

“On your knees,” Newt purred. Percival went down immediately, looking up at Newt almost in awe as he tangled his fingers in Graves’ hair once again, holding him in place. “You know what you have to do.”

 


	3. Courage

“Sir, I can’t,” she gasps, eyelashes messy with tears, strands of hair clinging to her face, lipstick smudged over her right cheek. He sighs, tucks her hair behind her ear, and guides her down once again.

“You can, Tina. You just need to relax.”

“You’re too big,” she whimpers in defeat. “Look at’ chu, fucking’ thicker than my arm, fuck --”

She hisses in pain, and he hums in pleasure as the head of his cock slips inside her. She goes down slowly, breathing harshly, fighting the urge to cry, to bolt. Sweet virgin, seventeen year old Tina Goldstein, so eager to have that internship at MACUSA.

“Shh,” he soothes, letting her pull herself up, away from him. “See? You already took a bit more this time, Tina. You can take all of it. I promise it’ll feel good.”

“It hurts so much,” she says, babbles, really, “how does it hurt so much? Queenie said it did, but not that badly --”

“I am not an average man, Tina. I warned you when you offered.”

“I thought I could take it,” she whines, pussy hovering above his hard cock, drops of slick dripping from her insides down his shaft.

“And you can,” he says patiently. “We’ll use more lubricant, okay? You can take it, baby doll. It’ll feel good, I promise. Okay?”

She bites her lips, so sweet and young and innocent, and says softly, “Okay.”

He tells her to come closer to him, flips their position until she is lying on her back in his bed, legs spread open. He coats his fingers in slick and dips one inside her, watching the way her eyelashes flutter shut.

“Good?” He asks, and she nods. They’d done this before, but she needs to take more this time. He presses his middle finger into her heat, and she makes a small sound, but he takes his time as he opens her up, in, out, in, out. He curls his fingers and goes faster, and soon enough she is gasping, mouth open and mindless sounds of pleasure tumbling from her lips.

“Three,” he announces, and she doesn’t react when he fills her again, three fingers inside her pussy, stretching her open and preparing her to take her first cock. There is pain, he can see it in the way she winces, but it’s bearable. “We don’t have all night, sweetheart. Guide me, okay?”

She nods, eyes still squeezed shut. He guides her little hand to his cock, hears her stumble over the slick spell, makes a noise of approval when she clumsily spreads the lubricant over his length. He goes in, slowly, letting her set the pace.

“Slow, slow, slow,” she chants like a mantra, frustrated tears rolling down her cheeks.

“You’re doing well, baby. I’m halfway in.” It’s not true, not even close, but it’ll help if she believes him.

The heat of her, the tightness, the wetness is a torture for him. A young, eager virgin cunt who literally knocked on his door and begged to be fucked. He grits his teeth, doing his best to go slow, but Tina isn’t making any sound. So he keeps going. His cock slides inside her, inch by inch, and she clenches around him helplessly, and he’s had enough.

He grips her hips and finishes for her, thrusting home in one go, and she gasps and arches her back. He gives her time to adjust, his own breathing ragged. His cock is pulsing inside her, and she feels so  _ good  _ around him, so  _ good. _

“Okay?” He asks, and she doesn’t reply at first, expression still pained. A minute passes, then two, and then she gives the tiniest nod.

He pulls out and thrusts back in once more, and she chokes as he does it again, and again, and  _ again _ .

“Tina,” he pants, one hand curled around her neck and the other squeezing her small breast. “You - feel - so -  _ good. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved this one so much I 100% plan to write an actual fic for it. Stay tuned :)


	4. Trophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grindelwald wins the war. Graves belongs to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one quite a long time ago ! You can find the original post on my Tumblr : 
> 
> https://fantastic-beasts-smut.tumblr.com/post/164643806438/when-the-war-is-over-grindelwald-keeps-him-he
> 
> THIS FIC IS HARD TO UNDERSTAND WITHOUT THE VISUAL THAT INSPIRED IT. So follow that link. Warning : there be naked cocks :)

When the war is over, Grindelwald keeps him. **  
**

He is a trophy, exposed for the eyes of hundreds to see. He kneels on a pedestal when Grindelwald tells him to, resembling one of the lifeless statues decorating the room.

“You might see a few familiar faces at the party tonight,” Grindelwald murmurs. “Their mouths sewn shut, but their eyes open. They might even recognize you, but I wouldn’t hold out too much hope, my dear - after all, they failed at that task for  _months_. And now, it is too late. You’re mine.”

As he says it he wraps his hand around Graves’ cock, tight, painful, and Graves bites his lips hard not to make a sound of protest. Grindelwald smirks at him, not fooled by the display, before releasing him.

“I want you to be hard for me, Percival dear. Do you think you can do that?”

Graves stares at him, and closes his own fist around his cock.

Defiance is useless, he knows it, but it still gives him a bit of leverage. As if - as if he wasn’t naked in a luxurious room, obeying orders that he doesn’t want to follow.

He drags his fingers up and down slowly, trying to focus on the familiar warmth he feels. His eyes flutter shut, but Grindelwald tuts and he opens them again, helpless, ashamed. Of course Grindelwald wouldn’t allow him the pleasure of losing himself in his own mind, in past encounters with lovers he  _wanted_ , in something that could make him aroused in a few minutes.

Instead he has to bear with Grindelwald’s appreciative eyes raking over his body as he quickens his pace. He shivers, but even going faster does very little to excite him. After a few minutes of humiliation Grindelwald decides he’s had enough and he flicks a finger at Graves, making him cry out when his cock fills up, impossibly quickly - as if he’d been kept on the edge for hours.

“Better,” Grindelwald says. “I even brought you a little gift, darling.”

Grindelwald waves his hand again, and Percival feels something cold slip over him, caging him in - and making him pretty. The dragon is built out of gleaming silver, his teeth sharp on either side of Graves’ cockhead.

“Do you like it?” Grindelwald purrs. “I know everyone will. But they’re forbidden to touch you. That is a right reserved to me, because you belong to me.”

Percival doesn’t find it within himself to argue.

-

When the party starts, he stays obediently at Grindelwald’s feet. Cock hard and weeping beneath the press of his gift. Gold splattered over his eyelids, his cheeks, his shoulders - drawing attention to him when he wishes to fade, to dissolve in the crowd, to be reborn.

His hands laid over his thighs. His head bowed, bent - broken. Grindelwald’s symbol dangles from his neck, a shimmer in the low lights sparkling in the room. Night has fallen outside. When Graves raises his eyes he sees both lust and disgust staring back at him, and he stops doing it.

Grindelwald does not acknowledge him. As the evening passes Graves’ cheeks become dusted with pink, fever reaching his eyes. He can’t ignore his own pain anymore  - he needs release. He can’t go on like this. He needs to come, but he doesn’t want to beg Grindelwald for a respite.  

He hears a whisper in his mind.

_Are you alright, pet? You look magnificent._

Graves’ eyelashes are messy with tears, his lips trembling. He shakes his head minutely, knowing Grindelwald will see him.

_Please_ , he thinks.  _Please_.

And above him, Grindelwald smiles.


	5. Wanton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves is bored during official meetings and decides to spice things up for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring sex toys and a hint of Goldgraves. This one's a bit longer than the others. Enjoy, and leave a comment if you liked it ! <3

The meeting is _dreadfully_ boring.

Percival should honestly be used to it by now, but it does not make this any easier to bear. Another dignitary starts talking about how they have made no progress and _don't_ know where Grindelwald is, and it's all he can do not to roll his eyes at the sheer uselessness of that intervention.

He catches Tina’s eyes. She smiles at him in amusement, clearly seeing how bored he looks. Percival winks at her in retaliation, delighting in the way her cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink before she turns away from him, clutching her pen tightly. It is always fun to rile her up.

He gets the idea after that last thought, and widens his eyes, straightening up in his chair.

“Director Graves?” Picquery says, noting his sudden stillness. “Is there something you would like to share with us?”

“No,” Percival replies slowly, shaking his head. “Nothing of importance, Madam President.”

After all, he can’t tell her that he’s just found an inappropriate way to make those meetings much more interesting.

-

He starts off small, one of the very first toys he bought. He slicks himself up in the morning, pushes the plug up his ass until it feels good, stretching him just right. He dresses then as he normally would. With each movement the plug shifts inside him, brushing just barely against his prostate and sending delicious shivers up his spine.Percival bites his lips. This is madness.

-

That day, each time the meeting starts being boring, he only has to move slightly in his chair to feel that delicious warmth again, spreading through him. And he wants more, he wants more - but he has to wait until he gets home. It is torture. He has to spell his arousal down wordlessly a few times, and all the while he wonders if someone pays attention to him. Wonder if someone notices how flushed his face is, how reddened his lips are due to his constant biting to keep noises down.

-

The next days, he wears a bigger plug. It feels so good to use it again that he brings himself off with it in the morning, and Percival Graves is late at work for the first time in years. No one asks, but he half wishes they would - if only to see their reaction as he said with the most serious face, “I came fucking myself with a toy the width of your wrist, Allan. Go back to work.”

That day he has to stand up and make a speech, and afterwards as he sits down again the toy _pushes_ against his prostate, eliciting the softest, overwhelmed _oh_ from him. Picquery raises an eyebrow questioningly, and Percival looks down.

“Are you alright?” She asks when the meeting is done, brows furrowed. “You look a bit feverish. You’re forbidden to fall ill, Graves, you know that.”

“I know, Madam President. I’m sorry.”

She gently pats him on the arm and leaves. Percival walks to his office, locks the door, takes off his pants, and proceeds to magically charm the plug to start fucking him. He falls to the floor on his hands and knees, moaning with abandon.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he pants as the toy picks up pace brutally, just the way he likes it. “Oh - oh god -”

He muffles his scream in the crook of his arm.  The toy pulls out of him only  to twist at his entrance, stretching him meanly, before entering him again - deeper than before. Percival comes biting down on his own arm, drooling all over the pristine fabric of his suit. He collapses.

 

 _Mercy Lewis_ , he thinks as he catches his breath, deeply satisfied. _Work is infinitely more interesting like this._

-

The week goes on. Whenever there’s a meeting planned, Percival chooses one of his toys, and goes to work with a secret. The thrill of it - of being sexually stimulated while inside a room with clueless people - adds to his excitement, and one memorable time he has to excuse himself to the toilets in the middle of a meeting, taking his coat and holding it in front of him to cover the shame of his arousal.

 _That_ was the day he started using the silent vibrating option on his plug, and he almost came right then and there as soon as he activated it. Far away from deterring him, this experience makes him crave _more_.

That night, he strokes himself as he imagines being found out. What would people do? What would they say? Would they look at him with disgust? With desire? Would they order him to strip and fuck himself on the toy while they watched? Would they come to the sight of him ?

That last image is enough to tip him over the edge. When he regains his bearings, he is determined to have what he desires.

He wants someone to notice him.

-

On Saturday he wakes up early to take out the biggest plug of his collection. The first time he used it he came from the sole feeling of being stretched and filled as much as he was, and he doesn’t know how long he can last with that inside him, knowing he’ll be in a room full of strangers.

He takes time prepping himself, using three fingers and a charmed ring around the base of his cock to avoid coming too soon. When the toy enters him he moans and rocks back against it until it is fully seated within him. His entire body shakes with the feeling of it, and he lets out breathless little gasps, battling with himself to resist the urge to make the toy _move_ \- knowing it would feel amazing if he did. But he has to get to work.

He uses his arms to straighten up, slowly shifting until he is sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes closed and lips bitten raw. Just to see he lifts a finger, making the toy vibrate inside him. Sparks burst behind his eyelids, his whole body warming up, his toes curling. His breathing quickens and he wants nothing more than fall back on the bed and let the toy do his work.

He is _never_ going to make it.

-

He does make it. Somehow, someway, he finds it within him to stop the vibrations, and actually get up. He pads over to his closet, dresses the magical way instead of the muggle way to move as less as he can, and he keeps the charmed ring in place around his cock.

It is a good thing he lives barely five minutes away from MACUSA, but the walk there already has him on the edge, the cock ring the only thing preventing him from coming inside his pants like a teenager. _God_.

Today’s meeting drags on.

Percival hesitates for a long time, but in the end - he dares.

He lifts his pinky toe and the toy starts vibrating slowly, teasing him, as if he hadn’t kept himself on the edge all day. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and opens his eyes, hoping no one notices how aroused he looks.

No one does, all of them focused on the British Prime Minister - or pretending to. So Percival takes it up a notch.

His legs jerk as the vibrations become more intense, his mouth opening on a soundless moan of pleasure. Immediately he bites his lips, refraining the urge to rock back in his chair and fuck himself on the toy.

He looks up. People are focused, but Tina - Tina is staring at him with wide eyes and something that looks like concern. Percival holds her gaze as he makes the vibrations yet again more powerful, his lips a thin line, his expression almost angry - only for it to melt away a minute later as Percival’s body sags in his chair, his eyes closed. His lips seem to be moving, but Tina doesn’t know what he says.

She wants to ask him if he’s alright, but she knows it wouldn’t be welcomed. Her gaze keeps drifting over to him as the meeting progresses, and Percival looks more and more ill, as if he had a bad fever. Tina sees a drop of sweat roll down the side of his face, and he is nearly panting, gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles are white. Every now and then he closes his eyes, as if overwhelmed by something bigger than him, stronger. Tina wants to help, but she doesn’t know what's wrong. She feels too hot, as if she was witnessing something she ought not to.

Fortunately the meeting draws to an end, and she gets up and approaches him slowly. “Sir, may I ask - are you alright?”

Percival’s pupils are blown wide as he looks at her. “M’ fine, Goldstein. Don't - _ah_ \- don’t you have work to do?”

Tina raises her eyebrows in disbelief. Percival Graves doesn’t _stutter_.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do something?” She asks, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “I could be useful, sir.”

Her words catch the Director’s attention, and Tina stills when those keen eyes focus on her in an entirely lecherous manner, slowly raking over her body. She resist the urge to cover herself, knowing her face must be beet red with embarrassment. With _want_.

Then Percival sighs, almost regretfully, and says, a bit more composed, “I’m fine, Tina. Get to work. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Yes sir,” Tina says automatically, ignoring the pang of disappointment she feels. Of course he doesn’t want her - not now, not here, not like this. But…

She smirks confidently. But she did not imagine the look in his eyes. He’s interested, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t set out to take what he is _willing_ to give.

 


	6. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hears them before he sees them. They’re discreet, barely breathing, two strangers in the night taking pleasure from one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some touch-starved, lonely Percival. It seems hype in the fandom these days. Hope you enjoy :)

“Sir?” Tina glances at him one last time, her hand on the doorknob. “Do you need anything else?”

Percival stares at her, arms crossed over his chest. His foot taps restlessly on the floor. He sweeps his eyes over her figure, lingers on her neck and the soft curve of her breasts beneath her blouse. Not for the first time, want rushes over him - he needs to come closer. He needs to place his hand on her cheek, needs to see if her hair is as soft as it looks, needs to know if she smells as sweet as he imagines. He thinks his advances wouldn’t be unwelcome, either - and that’s exactly why he can’t do it.

“Go home, Goldstein. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She nods and opens the door. She leaves.

Percival uncrosses his arms only to wrap them tightly around himself, wondering why his office is so cold. The familiarity of conjuring shimmering balls of light, that levitate in the air around him to illuminate his office does little to help. He sits at his table and runs his hand through his hair, scans the pile of paperwork on his desk he has to go through before sunrise.

He dips his golden quill into ink and starts writing.

Seconds, minutes, hours go by. Words blur in front of his face, a maelstrom of insignificant black spots; he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and keeps on writing. His spine aches, his left hand trembles. He balls it into a fist as he signs the last report to collapse against the back of his chair with a groan. His neck is painful, burning. It must be close to two in the morning, at least - no one is in the Woolworth building save for him and the President. He sends a Patronus to inform her of his departure and bid her good night, summons his coat to him and slips a cigarette between his lips as he exits his office.

The halls are silent, lit up by multiple orbs of light similar to the ones Percival summoned hours before, burning brighter than he could ever create. He makes his way to the elevators, cigarette smoke curling around his face, blinking blearily.

He’ll catch four hours of sleep, four and a half at the most. Fatigue is but an old friend to him.

The elevator brings him down, down, its clatter loud in the emptiness of such a place. The doors grate as they open and he steps out, vanishing his first cigarette to light a second one. The guard at the door greets him with a nod when Percival steps out of his workplace, the cold air of New York cooling him. He takes a deep breath, exhales. Smoke rises in the air again and lingers. He decides to take the long way home.

The city is silent, like this. No hustle bustle, no car horns, no yelling in the streets. Strangers part like the sea when Graves walks amongst them during the day, anyway, as if he was Moses himself. It makes his chest ache in a way he does not want to dwell on.

His flat is a mere three miles from the Woolworth building. Yet the more he follows this path he knows too well, the more he finds that he doesn’t want to go home just yet. There’s an alley to his right; he takes a sharp turn there without thinking, going deeper into the shadows.

He hears them before he sees them. They’re discreet, barely breathing, two strangers in the night taking pleasure from one another. The man thrusts _up_ and the woman gasps. He quiets her under his breath as he rolls his hips again. He sounds just as overwhelmed, his head laying over her naked shoulder. Her blouse has fallen on one side, revealing the soft swell of her breast. He kisses her _there_ , wetting her dark nipple with his tongue, then nips at the skin just above as he hoists her up. Her bra is nowhere to be seen. She clutches the man's coat with both hands, her legs wrapped tight around his waist.

“Newt,” she sighs appreciatively. “Oh, _Newt._ ”

She moans as he moves again. Percival disillusions himself mutely, and finds he is incapable of leaving.

Newt displays strength Percival didn’t know the man possessed as he makes love to her like this, against the wall. Percival wonders what it would feel like to be so desired as to risk doing it in the moonlight, where anyone can see.

The man is going faster now. Tina muffles her cries into his hair, chanting his name like a prayer. He responds in kind and Percival is unable to do anything besides watch and long for more. He knows not which of the lovers he would like to be. He only knows the fierce _want_ and loneliness spreading through him, equal in their pain. Newt shivers and stills with a groan and Tina lets out a surprised, overwhelmed little _oh_ of pleasure as he comes inside her. She kisses his hair afterwards and he laughs against her skin, catching his breath. He steps away and lets her regain her footing, and she grabs his face to kiss him deeply.

“You’re a mess,” he tells her, the fondness of his words reaching even Graves. “I love you.”

Tina merely smiles and kisses him again.

They start to make themselves presentable without hurry, and Percival knows he should go. _Now_ . He feels shameful for having stayed; shameful for having felt desire at the sight of them, and exhaustion at his own embedded loneliness. With horror, he feels wetness spill down his cheeks. _This is ridiculous_ , he thinks as he wipes his eyes and throws his cigarette to the ground. _Ridiculous -_

“Show yourself and don’t move!” Tina’s voice echoes behind him.

_Goldstein._

He can’t let them see him like this. He can’t let them see him. What would he say? What would they think of him? He can't stop crying. He blinks furiously, frustrated, and sniffles loudly.  

“I won’t repeat it again! I know you’re here! I’m an Auror working for MACUSA and I strongly suggest you stop your little game and lift your disillusionment charm right now!”

“Tina,” Newt murmurs behind her.

“I'm doing my job,” she says to him sharply, and Percival feels proud of her. She's right.

He could apparate but she’s already cast a barrier around the area. Clever, clever girl. She thinks so highly of him.

“It’s just me,” he says, sotto voce. “Me, Tina.”

He lets the charm fall, and turns around slowly. His hands are raised in surrender. Tina flushes, her cheeks darkening. He can see it plainly; the distance between them is short, as Tina was ready to attack. Newt is behind her, surprise painted on his face.

Graves wonders if he looks just as lost as he feels.

“Sir?”

“Tina.”

“Sir, you’re…” Tina lowers her wand, hesitates. “You’re crying,” she finally settles on saying.

“Here,” Newt says. “Use this.”

He walks to Percival until he is close enough to hand him a handkerchief. “Thank you.”

“How long have you been there?” Tina asks, biting her lips. “Sir?”

Percival blows his nose and wipes his eyes. He makes a pathetic picture and he knows it; he should probably obliviate them so they can never remember him in such a fashion. “Long enough,” he croaks out.

“I...see.” Tina looks taken aback. She looks at Newt, clearly at a loss as for what to do. How do you act when you catch your boss crying after he watched you and your lover have sex?

“Why didn’t you leave?” Newt whispers. The underlying tone of threat behind his words makes Percival dab at his eyes with more force and shake his head. He needs to go. “Mr. Graves. Percival.”

Newt places his hand on Percival’s arm, carefully - and Percival bolts away as if he'd been struck by lightning. “ _Don’t touch me._ Don’t...”

Newt curls his hand in front of his chest. “Sorry.”

“I have to go,” Percival says, because he wants Newt to keep touching him. “I’m - I’m so sorry.”

In the next blink of an eye he’s gone.

“He was crying,” Tina says after a beat. “Percival Graves. _Crying_.”

“I know,” Newt says thoughtfully. He walks up to her and wraps an arm around her shoulder. Tina snuggles closer to him. “Come on, love. Let’s go home.”


	7. Display

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know about you,” Graves snapped, “But I have no desire to let anyone see what I look like, or to gaze at dicks all day! That’s too much dick!”
> 
> “There’s no such thing as too much dick.” 
> 
> “Oh, shut up, Watson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally just crack. Nothing explicit, but it didn't fit in any other of my series. I guess the fact that they're all naked at work _is_ Not Safe For Work though. 
> 
> I hope the silliness can put a smile on your face :)

Graves blinked at his Aurors.

Then his eyes widened. His face was a mask of shock, two dollops of red appearing high on his cheeks. “Why, in the name of Merlin, are you all _naked_?!”

“What?” Tina said. She looked at herself, just in case - but no, she was still wearing the pale blue shirt she’d picked out that morning. She could still feel the tight fit of her bra against her skin. She frowned, looking back at Graves - only to nearly faint as her _boss_ stood in front of them in the nude, covering his eyes with one hand but not hiding anything important.

Merlin, she could see it. Percival Graves’ cock. Oh God. She tried to avoid looking at it, she really did - but her eyes were inevitably drawn to the space between his legs. She found she couldn’t look away.

“Why are you naked, sir?” Watson asked, and when Tina looked at her colleague she screamed because he was also naked. She looked around the room and oh, lord, everyone was naked.

_Why was everyone naked?!_

“I’m not - “ Graves looked down at himself and his words of protest died on his tongue. “Mercy Lewis, why am I naked?!”

“This is a curse,” Tina said frantically as she tried to cover herself with a Wanted Grindelwald poster she’d grabbed on the nearest table. “A tasteless prank. Hey, does this work?”

Watson hummed. “Great, Goldstein. I can only see your tits now. And Grindelwald’s face, but I guess that can’t be helped.”

Graves was now in the corner, transfiguring a mountain of paperwork into something vaguely shaped like clothing. Watson shrugged and finished his cup of coffee, staring at Graves’ ass unabashedly. Tina followed his gaze, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Merlin, she needed to be doused in cold water. This was entirely inappropriate. The way her body felt about the whole thing was entirely inappropriate.

“What if we have to spend the day naked?” She whispered in horror.

“The boss will send us home,” Watson shrugged.

“Yeah, but, what if it’s the same tomorrow?”

“Then I guess we’ll have to learn to work naked,” her colleague said, unbothered. “Don’t complain, Goldstein. Just enjoy the view. We’re both gorgeous, healthy men.” Watson winked. “Don’t you agree?”

Tina swallowed. Her eyes swept over Watson’s figure - lean, but heavy with muscles. Three jagged scars ran above his hipbone. His chest hair was sparse and barely visible. Curiously, she looked back at Graves and couldn’t help but compare the two of them. Graves’ hair was darker, his shoulders broader and his skin paler than Watson’s. He was scarred too. Tina wished she knew the story behind these marks, then felt the familiar wave of guilt as she saw the Deathly Hallow symbol edged on the nape of Graves’ neck.

“Let’s hope this works,” Graves said gruffly, pulling her out of her thoughts. The man held a poorly transfigured bathrobe in his hands. He slipped it on, trying to be gentle as this was all made of paper against his skin. Once done, he turned around to face Tina and Watson again. “So?”

Tina bit her lips, and Watson shook his head. “Sorry, sir. I can still see your dick. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Not that you’re -” Graves groaned. “ _Damn it!_ I’m not going to walk around all day holding a poster to protect my butt, like Tina is doing! I have a meeting in half an hour! Why aren’t you bothered by this?!”

Watson shrugged again. “I’ve traveled the world and seen things, sir. My opinion is that this isn't bad and we should keep working like we were. We’ll just be naked.”

“I don’t know about you,” Graves snapped, “But I have no desire to let anyone see what I look like _here,_ or to gaze at dicks all day! That’s too much dick!”

“There’s no such thing as too much dick,” Watson said wisely. "Plus, sir, you have nothing to be ashamed of." 

“Oh, shut up, Watson.”

-

In his defence, Graves tried to find a solution, he really did. But when he’d gone through more useless transfigurations, when he’d tried to put on the change of clothes he kept in his office only to find out they disappeared the instant they touched his skin, and when even a disillusionment charm failed to hide him and what was left of his dignity, the Director grudgingly admitted his defeat.

Sighing, he walked up to his subordinates again. Watson was eating his usual morning croissant and Tina was sipping her coffee, the both of them exchanging idle words and gossip as if nothing was wrong. For Christ’s sake, Tina’s tits were still _out._ Graves furiously thought of Grindelwald wearing a tutu to will his boner away.  

“I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee,” Graves said to no one in particular.

Tina just beckoned him over, and Watson merely smiled.

-

“Good morning, Goldstein, Watson, Mr. Gr - Mercy Lewis,” Auror Bones did a double take, “Why are you all naked?!”

“It’s a long story,” Graves said absently, flipping through Tina’s notes on their most recent case. “Do you have that report I asked for, Daniela?”

“I do - wait a minute.”

Graves waited.

“Oh my _God_ , why am I naked?!”

“You’ll get used to it,” Watson said, patting her back as he passed by. “Coffee?”

“I have whisky too,” Graves informed her. It was only eight pm. If every Auror that came through this door asked the same questions, it was going to be a long day.

“Please,” Daniela said, bewildered. “Dear Lord.”

“I know,” Graves said dryly. “I know. Take five minutes to come to terms with the situation and come back to me, alright? It’ll be fine.”  

“We’re all naked.”

“Yes.”

“We’re all naked,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Right.”

Daniela let herself be led away, face pale, and Graves sighed and chewed on his fountain pen before writing down something in the margin of Tina’s report.

It was going to be a _very_ long day.

 


	8. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt fill : 
> 
> "Newt has a biting kink and Gellert doesn't mind helping Newt with that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite short because I do not have the time to make it longer, but heck ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Harder,” Newt slurrs, eyes half lidded - undone by the feeling of Gellert’s cock inside him. His Master rolls his hips, slowly, to let Newt enjoy him, and Newt’s whole body rolls with it. He shudders, his ass tightening around Gellert.

“This?” Gellert says quietly, his accent thick and dripping. “Or this?” He digs his thumb into the dip of Newt’s stomach, where a bruise is blooming, drawn out by teeth and tongue. Newt moans and tosses his head to the side. “Darling?”

“B - bite,” Newt says, eyes fluttering close. He swallows, raising his hand blindly to tangle his fingers in Gellert’s hair and tug him down, pressing his Master's mouth against his throat. “Please.”

Gellert smiles against him, his breath hot against Newt’s skin. “I will hurt you.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Newt says.

Gellert shakes his head, his smile hidden in the crook of Newt’s shoulder. “You’re adorable.”

He rises up, leaning on his elbows and caging Newt’s head between them. He kisses Newt’s nose, the corner of his mouth, making him giggle and then sigh as he thrusts gently inside his tight body once more. Newt turns his head to the side, his breathing shallow as Gellert keeps a gentle rhythm, _in, out, in, out,_ and Newt moans with it in time. Each time Gellert fills him completely he lets out a little cry of pleasure, his skin flushed pink all the way down to his little nipples.

Gellert caresses the side of Newt’s neck with a finger, and Newt arches desperately up to meet him. His neck is still red from when Gellert choked him earlier, yet he still asks for more. Gellert licks his lips, leaning down to breathe into Newt’s mouth - teeth tugging at his lower lip, blooming full and red like a woman’s as he nips hard enough to make blood well under the skin. Newt looks dazed, his lithe chest rising and falling quickly with each breath. _So gorgeous._

Gellert takes his time, laying his whole body down on Newt’s, trailing his hands down to Newt’s knees and pushing, bending him in two. He is able to go deeper, like this. Newt feels it too. “Please, Master, please --”

“Are you close?” Gellert says gently. “I am barely moving inside you.”

“ _Please,_ ” Newt sobs.

“Sweet thing. I have you.” Gellert places one, open-mouthed kiss on Newt’s neck, just above his pulse point. He holds Newt still with his weight, smothering him into the bed - not that his darling wants to be anywhere else but here with him. Another kiss, lower. Newt squirms under him, clearly wanting more, but still too shy to ask for it. Gellert opens his mouth, letting Newt feel his teeth over his skin.

“Ah, _ah_ -”

Unwilling to let his pet wait any longer, Gellert closes his mouth and bites, drawing a loud moan from Newt. He licks at the skin, pulling away to admire the mark, then leans down - sucking hard and searing. He doesn’t move this time, not when Newt trashes under him, his back arching, his hole tightening deliciously around Gellert. He growls and holds Newt’s down, and Newt’s mouth is open, _oh - oh - oh_ , _please, please !_

Gellert bites him again, tasting blood in his mouth, and Newt’s jaw goes slack. He comes loud and shocked, mouth open on a wail as Gellert asserts his dominance over him like this. His body goes limp on the bed, hole pulsing sweetly with his orgasm. Gellert groans with it, unembedding his teeth out of Newt’s skin, overcome by the sensation. Blood trickles from Newt's shoulder onto the white sheets, but he knows Newt loves it. Relishes in it. It makes Gellert feel warm, to know that his darling can bear such a violent proof of his twisted affections with pride.

“I love you, little darling.”

Newt hums softly, almost a purr, and Gellert kisses him. Together, they clean Newt’s blood clean off Gellert’s teeth, and Newt looks at him fondly as Gellert resumes his thrusts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic commissions are open on my Tumblr ! If you want to get a customized short fic like these ones, all you need to do is message me. You can also ask for longer ones - there are more samples of my work on my profile. I hope you enjoy them :)


	9. Gramander - trapped together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they be trapped together in a crate and newt gets horny bc of course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short fic good fic. i do love me some horny men. also i hadn't updated this in so long lmao but i actually have quite a bit of fics to add to this series, i hope you enjoy

"Scamander! Seriously? Is this the time and place?"   
  
"I'm sorry!" Newt whispered back, mortified. "If you stopped being so agitated maybe this wouldn't happen!"   
  
"I'm trying to find us a way out, you imbecile!" Graves seethed. He moved again on top of Newt, and this time Newt couldn’t help letting out a loud whimper. The pressure against his crotch felt just right, and Graves just wouldn’t stop  _ wriggling.  _ They were pressed against each other, chest to chest, Graves’ legs trapped between Newt’s own. Everytime the older man moved, he applied pressure to where Newt was achingly, embarrassingly hard. He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t gotten laid in so long, what was he supposed to do when an attractive man lied on top of him and squirmed? This was all Graves’ fault. 

"Jesus christ," Graves hissed furiously when Newt moaned again. "Keep it quiet! We don't know who or what could be out there!” 

The man slapped his hand over Newt’s mouth to make him shut up. He looked absolutely furious, and Newt could comprehend why. 

The mission they were leading had truly gone to hell, and it was completely Newt’s fault. He’d tripped over a brick in the seemingly abandoned warehouse they were exploring, effectively broken a latch of his magical suitcase in the process. That, in turn, had resulted in an unknown amount of dangerous creatures escaping from it and running away before Graves and him could even blink. And when they’d tried to run after them, they’d accidentally activated a sort of trap which resulted in the ground opening up beneath their feet, falling down a tunnel, and ending up here - in a sort of box, or a crate, in the dark, with no way to know where they were or how to get out. 

It was highly stressful. And perhaps it was the adrenaline, but all Newt could do was get  _ aroused. _ And everything Graves did to make him stop his folly only made him harder. The man's anger heightened Newt’s excitement, the disgust dripping from his voice only made him want  _ more. _

He would have given anything to be able to touch himself right about now, but he was trapped. Did Graves even know what he was doing to him? 

"You dumb little thing," Graves said, voice low. "If we die here because you couldn't keep it in your pants, Scamander, I swear to god..."   
  
Newt closed his eyes and darted his tongue out to lick Graves' palm. Graves jerked violently and pulled back. "You fucking freak!” 

Newt moaned and rolled his hips upwards, and much to his surprise this time even Graves couldn’t keep in a groan. 

He was just as hard, it seemed, but better at hiding it. Newt spluttered. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as the atmosphere changed. He had never felt this hot. 

"Fuck. Fuck. Fine," Graves said, visibly battling himself. "Have it your way."

He kept his hand against Newt's mouth, ensuring the man stayed quiet. With the other he reached between them to unbutton both their pants. The feeling of Graves’ large hand wrapping around his cock made Newt’s eyes roll back in his head. He whined, trying to bring the both of them closer together, and Graves obliged. He aligned their cocks so they were touching. Then he started to stroke them, quickly and efficiently, jerking the both of them off. Newt trashed under him, his whole body trembling - it was too much too fast.   
  


"Come on, Newton," Graves said, voice strained. "Hurry up and come for me, we don't have all day - ah, fuck, that feels good. Shit..."   
It only took a few more strokes, a clever twist of Graves' hand and Newt was coming, spilling over Graves' fingers. Graves followed soon after with a muffled moan. 

Newt kissed his palm.    
  


As Newt’s breathing quietened, his whole body relaxed and went loose. He felt suddenly exhausted, and he closed his eyes against the renewed wave of shame that bubbled inside him now that the excitement had died down.    
  


He could hear Graves dressing himself again. When he spoke, steel laced his voice - an undisguised threat. "We never talk about this again," he said, "Ever. Am I clear?"   
  
Newt was still dazed, too struck dumb to think of a reply.    
  
"Scamander!" Graves barked. He grabbed him by the chin and shook him lightly. "Do I make myself clear?"   
  
"Y - y- yes sir," Newt said.   _ "Yes." _   
  
Graves sneered. "Look at you. You're a fucking mess. Alright, let's get out of here."

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut it hard (pun intended) to write and feedback is appreciated !


	10. Grindelgraves - captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A response to the prompt "itty bitty Percival + tol Grindelwald. Percy still sassy and authoritative as hell" which ..... really took a dark turn lmfao. i do love seeing Graves in power for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for physical violence (face slapping) and implied dark!Graves i guess??? if that's your jam then enjoy.

Grindelwald woke up confused. His head ached terribly, as though someone had taken a blunt object, and pounded his skull with it. He could taste iron on his tongue. As he tried to sit up to get a bearing on his surroundings, he realized that his hands were tied behind his back. He could feel thin ropes digging into his skin; they started at the base of his wrists, then slithered up his arms, wrapped around his torso and kept his arms uncomfortably pressed against his lower back.

He managed to sit up after a few tries. His vision dimmed when he righted himself, the world spinning around him. He felt dizzy, disoriented, drunk. He couldn’t understand where he was. It looked like a room, but it was one he’d never seen before. He sat on a bed, but it wasn’t his own.

Before he could wonder any further about his predicament, footsteps were heard. He forced himself to stay still, looking at the door in anticipation. Out of it came a man: middle-aged, handsome, well-dressed, but smaller in person than in pictures. Percival Graves smiled at him, though it was clearly strained. Grindelwald opened his mouth to talk, but Graves held a finger up against his lips.

“No talking,” he said. “I’m the one asking the questions here, Mr. Grindelwald.”

How…How had he possibly _lost?_

Grindelwald felt a flare of fury rise up within him. He distinctly remembered now observing Percival Graves for weeks, waiting for the perfect time to make his move. He needed the man’s name, his face, his position within MACUSA to further his own plans. He’d planned to kill him. Defeating him should have been easy.

So why was he the one tied up on a bed, struggling to fight the lasting effects of whatever it was Graves had used to knock him out?

Grindelwald turned his head and spat on the floor. The saliva was tinted with red. It was rude, but he felt it was in his right - the whole situation had completely slipped out of his control. He couldn’t even remember their battle.

“How?” He bit out. His hands worked behind him, trying to call his magic to loosen the bonds discreetly, but it didn’t respond to him. The gravity of the situation didn’t sink in - he needed answers.

Graves sighed. Instead of replying, he walked closer, and Grindelwald stopped his writhing. The Director reached out and tapped the rope that bit into Grindelwald’s shoulder with his index finger. “It’s useless,” he said, a quiet certainty lacing his voice. “You can’t get out of those. Stop trying, you’ll only tire yourself out, and you need energy for what I have planned.”

Grindelwald looked up at him, vaguely wondering what he meant by that. He was blinded with anger. He hated feeling small under Graves’ scrutiny, when he was anything but. Graves should be the one groveling at his feet. “Why haven’t you turned me in yet?”

Graves sighed again. He looked to the side, seemingly thoughtful, and when his gaze locked with Grindelwald’s it was entirely devoid of emotions.

It was unnerving. It made Grindelwald instinctively try to get away from the other man, but there was nowhere to go. Graves smiled again, but it looked alien, as though his face was a mask he’d put on the wrong way.

“I have questions for you,” he said. “And peculiar methods of getting answers, which MACUSA doesn’t always…approve of. If I bring you there, I have to follow protocol. But here…” And Grindelwald shivered helplessly, icy dread curling around his heart as Graves stroked his cheek lightly with a finger, “…you’re all mine.”

For the first time, Grindelwald felt fear.

“Mr. Graves -”

Graves’ gaze hardened. “What did I say when I first came in?”

Grindelwald stared, uncomprehending. “What?”

“What did I say when I first came in?” Graves repeated, his voice like steel. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know what you -”

Graves slapped him. Hard. Hard enough that Grindelwald’s head snapped to the side with the force of it. His headache bloomed anew. He swore he’d bitten his cheek, as the whole right side of his face smarted up, feeling warm.

“No talking. That’s what I said. I’ve been lenient so far with you but now I really think it’s time for you to shut up,  _Herr Grindelwald.”_

He was in shock. There was no other word for it.

No one had ever dared raise a hand to him, and certainly not in such a humiliating way. He snarled, ready to give Graves a piece of his mind, but the second a word left his mouth Graves slapped him again. In the same place. Harder than before, and this time Grindelwald went down, falling on his side on the bed. Graves looked down at him with satisfaction.

He didn’t understand what was happening to him. His cheek was burning, and he felt like throwing up. The world had just tipped on its axis and he was the only one left without an anchor.

“Say something again.”

“Wha…”

“You dumb fucker.” Graves grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt so they were face to face again. Grindelwald had a hard time focusing on the other man’s face, going cross-eyed at how close they were to each other. He could feel Graves’ breath on his lips. “You really believed in this, didn’t you? Believed you could win over me.” He let out a bark of laugh. “You should have done your research better.”

“I… I…”

“Are you deaf? I said no talking!” Graves held him in place with a hand and hit him again, the rings on his fingers splitting the tender skin of his cheek after the fifth blow. Then he pinched and tugged on the bruised, heated skin until Grindelwald gave in and let out a whimper. It earned him another slap, and Graves took both his hands away, allowing him the chance to breathe normally again.

“Alright,” Graves said as he watched Grindelwald heave on the bed. “Let’s get started.”


End file.
